False Memories
by Batshiz
Summary: Deidara still hasn't gotten over Sasori. Itachi has a solution, but Deidara's bound to hate him for it. SasoDei


**False Memories**

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Deidara sat, completely fixated on the numerous cracks that ran around the edges of his (and previously Sasori's) room. He'd been sat in the same spot for what seemed like no time at all, even if the clock was telling him it had been at least a day since… 

But Deidara didn't want to think about that. After all, It only made him want to distract himself with art, which he couldn't do because his hands had been dead for a little while and were only just getting used to moving again, let alone creating even the most pitiful of explosions. Formerly, Sasori would have had a multitude of materials just perfect for destroying, but he was gone, and so the cycle began again. He hadn't even brushed his hair yet. Who would have thought that the death of someone not even remotely artistic (at least, not really artistic, he had the wrong idea, but potential too.) would have affected Deidara so badly? Deidara decided that the walls were boring now, and resumed lying face down on his bed. With any luck, he would suffocate and then he could be with Sasori again so it would all work out.

"Deidara." Wonderful. Deidara covered his ears and tried to block out the Uchiha's voice.

"Go away, Itachi, un, I don't need this right now." The pillow muffled the sound.

"Ah. You're going through depression and disorganization." Itachi sat down behind Deidara and tried to remove the pillow. "There's no point clinging to it like that, it won't bring your partner back, and you'll probably end up breaking those nice new wrists of yours." Deidara let go, defeated_. One day_, he thought, _I will beat you. _

"There. Now doesn't that feel so much better?" Itachi smirked condescendingly. Deidara glared at him as if he would like nothing more than to see the Uchiha lying dead upon the floor with a C2 in his ear. Which brought him right back to the original problem.

"What do you want, un?" Deidara sighed. Maybe Itachi would eventually leave him alone if he listened to whatever crap he was nagging about.

"I don't want anything. I was told to inform you that you have a new partner, and that you should work on clearing the room. Give anything valuable to Kakuzu. That's all." Deidara hated that. The way Itachi said things so bluntly. This wasn't just 'anything valuable' this was _art_. Not real, true art, but art nonetheless. It had… sentimental value. Deidara was about to voice his opinions towards the Uchiha, but was cut off mid-sentence by a poke to the forehead.

"Hey, what the hell was –" In that moment, everything turned a deep shade of red and black. It was something that Deidara had had the misfortune to see far too many times in his stay with the akatsuki.

"You bastard, un!" He yelled at the creator of this strange dream world. Itachi stared back with pity behind his eyes.

"Deidara, this is for your own good. How can you get over Sasori if you don't talk one last time? Say what you want to say, and then you can go. Deal?" Itachi began to walk away, leaving Deidara stood in the middle of the street. He started to fade into the background, almost as if he was getting further and further away.

Deidara tried to breathe normally again. The mangekyou had this effect on him, every time. He just had to calm down, then he could get out of here. The artist raised a hand to where his left eye should have been.

It was still there. No scope. All thoughts of staying calm flew out of Deidara's mind, and he started to run after Itachi.

"You can't leave me here, un! Hey! Where the hell are you going?!" With those words, the Uchiha completely faded from view, leaving Deidara alone in the remains of a childhood memory. "Itachi…" He muttered, looking around for any signs of him. The artist sat on the dusty pathway. How could there be dust in a memory? Surely Itachi must have hated his family home as much as Deidara had been forced to, if not more, so why bother memorizing every detail, down to the last leaf on every tree and the permanent position of the moon in the sky? Midnight, all night, all day. Deidara had never seen it change, no matter how long he watched it. He was essentially stuck in the same moment. Eternal. How inartistic.

This only left the matter of what Itachi was planning on doing to him. Perhaps he secretly knew that the mere thought of being trapped on the site of a mass murder terrified Deidara to his very core, and would just leave him here until all memory of Sasori had drifted away. No, even Itachi couldn't be that heartless. He wasn't a total asshole. Alright, he was, but he wouldn't do that.

The trees by the houses rustled in the wind, a wind which carried tortured screams in it's wake. Deidara began to rethink the whole situation, and decided that maybe just this once he could play along.

"Itachi, just get this over with." Deidara didn't add the words he was thinking, mostly because they were not the kind of words you say to someone who you're trying to get on the good side of. As he spoke the words, the whole dream fell silent. Alright, maybe Itachi _had_ learned a little about art. A hand clasped Deidara's shoulder, making him flinch. What the hell was going on here?

"Hey Brat. Miss me?" Deidara nearly died. How the hell was Itachi doing that? How had he _known_? He turned around slowly, almost afraid of what he would be seeing. There was silence for a few minutes while both figures regarded each other, one in wonder, and the other in quiet annoyance. It was Deidara who finally broke the silence.

"Danna?" He whispered, hoping, despite all the odds that this wasn't an illusion, that this was actually _his_ Sasori, not some cheap copy. The memory rolled his eyes and all hope faded. It was a copy. Sasori had never, even once actually showed how much Deidara annoyed him. Now that Deidara looked closer, there were tiny details that were ever so slightly wrong. The green-grey eyes seemed as bright as they must have been in life, the hair just that little bit softer. Eyelashes.

It was then that Deidara realised what Itachi had created. A dream, not of the puppet that he knew Sasori as, but of how Deidara had seen him, after a little while. This was Sasori's soul, as styled by a true artist. The original couldn't have wished for anything better.

"We only have seventysome- **seventy two** hours, brat, so if you could say something that constitutes a real sentence…" Sasori left the sentence hanging in the air. Deidara totally appreciated the way Itachi had filled in his missing knowledge, but secretly revelled in the fact that he didn't know Sasori well enough to think of what else he would say. Then again, Deidara didn't really know him that well either. That thought sent him back into depression. How much time had he spent arguing when he should have been thinking? It was only now that Deidara truly regretted wasting what time he'd had with someone who just _might_, with a little patience, have understood him.

Then again, neither artist had any time to be _patient_. Deidara reached out a hand.

"Walk with me, Danna." A simple request, not particularly wordy or romantic, not at all what Deidara would have wanted to say. But he was determined that Itachi wasn't going to know enough to use this against him. Even so, Sasori – no, not Sasori, Deidara reminded himself – took the hand in his, making Deidara realise something else that was a little different. Warm, human skin, exactly like any ordinary person would have. It wasn't quite right. It was just… not Sasori. Deidara knew now that he'd wasted too much time. Sasori would never be back, and no stretch of the imagination, no amount of hope and wishing would ever change that. He was gone, and that was it. Deidara let go of the hand, directing his gaze to the sky.

"I can't do this, Itachi. Let me go." He spoke calmly, trying not to show that he was choking on tears. It seemed pointless, but Deidara knew he'd only regret it later if he let himself cry now. The rain kept falling, one drop after the other, a never-ending downpour of sorrow. Was this how Itachi felt, when he thought about what he'd done? Was this his way of getting Deidara to see? Probably not, but it was easier to face than the truth. Deidara sank to the ground, waiting for this dream to end already.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Itachi stood up. He probably shouldn't have done that. Deidara would have forgotten Sasori on his own, or have died trying. Now he couldn't possibly live his life without noticing the absence of his former partner, facing more regrets every day. But it had been for the best, Itachi was sure. After all, at least Deidara would stop trying to break things. Maybe.

The artist was still in the position Itachi had left him in. He was most likely scared to move, in case the moment he had just spent in a dream would fade away too quickly. Itachi wasn't one for mystics and symbolism, but he thought it was quite touching that it was this final meeting that Deidara wanted to keep eternal. Private, but eternal.

Itachi left the room quietly, leaving Deidara looking into nothingness, hoping he hadn't gone too far this time. Men had been driven mad by falsities before, after all.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Some time later, and Deidara was once again sat staring at something. The wall of a cave, by an underground river. He tried not to look at the rocks that were still stained red-brown with blood. Behind him, a clay bird stood, patiently awaiting a call to fly away, or to lose itself to the void. On its wings were various tools and oddments, the kind used in woodcraft. Deidara had been told that sometimes, people were buried with everything they could want in the other world. He couldn't join Sasori just yet, but he could leave him something to do, at least. Deidara walked out into the harsh sunshine, making sure the bird wasn't following him. He had to hurry, any moment now Tobi would come looking for him, no doubt with some new annoyance. He was bound to ruin this, even if he did have good intentions. Deidara waved towards the cave, a final farewell to a great (if disillusioned) artist. A farewell to an acquaintance that was never anything more because of stubbornness and anger.

"Goodbye, Sasori, un." It felt weird saying it, after so long a time of referring to the puppet as Danna. Well, better late than never.

Deidara turned away, making a hand sign as he did so. Behind him, an explosion overturned the fragile rocks, completely blocking the entrance. A single tear was wiped away, and Deidara started work on another flying creature to take him back to base.

"Hey, sempai! Tobi was looking for you!"

Ah yes, and one other. Deidara hid the smile on his face as he turned around, shouting something back at his latest partner. He leapt on the bird and began to fly, laughing as Tobi had to jump to even catch hold of the tail as it sped away over the forest.

He wasn't going to make the same mistakes Sasori had. This was a chance for redemption, and Deidara would do his best to make sure Tobi never had to feel like he had.

Well, maybe a little upset. A little drama couldn't go amiss, right?

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**A/N: I don't like the ending :( **

**Oh well, usual thing, review if you like, review if you don't. Zetsu needs food, ya know! **


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